Fading like a Wildflower
by lu-flailing
Summary: Brittany expresses her desire to be with Santana through the art of black and white photography.


_The fire in your heart is out _

_I'm sure you've heard it all before _

_But you never really had a doubt _

_I don't believe that anybody _

_Feels the way I do about you now_

* * *

I walked along the crowded path with her in single file; the path too crowded for us to be next to each other. I knew she was behind me, yet I couldn't keep myself from turning around every few steps to make sure she was still walking behind me. I watched as she rolled her eyes haughtily as a freshman accidentally bumped into her, scared to death at the possibility of this senior - this ridiculously _hot _senior - talking to him.

I laughed softly, breathlessly, which caught her attention.

"You wanna wait for a bit over there?" She asked nonchalantly, gesturing over a sunny spot on one of the walls of the building.

"Sure." I said easily.

I stopped once we were there, turned around and leaned against the wall, now facing Santana. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to gasp or sigh dreamily, or even kiss her. The sun bounced off her perfect face as she smiled and closed her eyes, turning her face to the sun.

"Mmm this feels wonderful." She murmured softly. "I love days like this."

I smiled. God she was so damn beautiful. The sun made the natural red and gold highlights in her thick, wavy brown hair stand out. Her long eyelashes, rosy cheeks, perfect lips in a half smile - just made me want to melt. I could not wipe the ridiculous smile off my face.

She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow at me. I looked away, feeling my face get warmer by the second, embarrassed to be caught watching her. She smiled again and shook her head with her eyes still on me. It was like she knew what I was thinking, what I had been thinking since we became friends at the beginning of the school year.

"Hey can I take a picture of you San?" I said quickly, breaking the silence in which I was being scrutinized. I instinctively cradled my camera hanging around my neck, my baby. Santana knew how much I loved this film camera, she knew how it made me feel when I could take a picture and develop it myself, watching the still image come alive. _It feels like a way of life_, I had told her when we were in the darkroom once, developing pictures. My hands on hers I I guided her through the process, glad that it was dark so she couldn't see my nervous smile and flushed face.

"Of course." She said smiling.

"Just... Lean against the wall... Yeah just like that." I said as she pressed her upper back against the wall, her hips out and her hands in her jacket pockets, eyes closed, lips slightly open. Perfect.

She sighed.

She was beautiful.

Gorgeous.

It amazed me when I was able to capture her beauty in a single photograph. I slowly lifted the camera up to my eye. Seeing her through the camera lens felt different. She seemed so much more at peace with the world instead of in a constant battle with herself and everybody around her. Everything felt like it was frozen, like it sometimes feels when you look at a photograph. Except for Santana. It was like she was a flame surrounded by everything dull in the world. Exciting, new, different, beautiful, stunning; she took my breath away.

It was taking too long, so I quickly snapped a few pictures.

But of course, words decided to tumble out of my unforgiving mouth.

"You're so beautiful, you know." I said softly.

Her eyes fluttered open, then narrowed at me. I leaned back a little, bracing myself. I knew this look. She gave it to kids who had offended her or to kids she just didn't like. It was the look that told you that you were in for your money.

"You say that a lot to me." She replied quietly, reaching for my hand and playing lightly with my fingers. So many mixed signals. The narrowed eyes; mean. The playful hands; flirty. Looking into my eyes like they held the secret to her happiness; love? Lust? Friendship? What did she want? It felt like no one would ever be able to figure that out.

_Shit._ I though, _What if she figures me out? What if she confronts me? What do I do, deny it? Say it's true? Just kiss her?_

But before I knew it, words were coming out of my mouth again.

"Can a friend not say that to a friend?" I asked quizzically, tilting my head, playing up the innocence.

She pursed her mouth thinking, then sighed. "I guess." She said, dropping my hand and looking down at her feet, a disappointed look in her warm, golden brown eyes.

What was going on here? I wanted her so badly, yet I couldn't bring myself to say it. It seemed like sometimes she wanted me too. But how could I figure this out without ever making a move? Baby steps I would tell myself, baby steps. I wanted her _so bad_. Yet I had no idea how to accomplish that. I always feel... Whole when I'm with Santana. Smiling and happy, complete.

Yet when we're apart, when it gets so frustrating from not being able to _do_ anything, or when I just cannot read the multitude of signals radiating off of Santana, I get this ache in my heart. My breath tends to get all hitched up and I feel like bursting into tears sometimes when she does this to me. Doesn't Santana see that I want her? I want everything about her. I want her cherry red lips on mine; soft, then furiously mad with wanting and pure lust. I can just imagine how our bodies would fit together as we meld into one being. I want to hold her, put my arms around her. I want her to sooth my pain, this heartache that can only be filled with _my_ gorgeous and stunning brunette.

I want soft whispers, '_I love you'_ s to be exchanged as I trail kisses up and down her body.

And the one thing I want, more than _anything_ in the whole entire world, is for her to say it first.


End file.
